Page 29 of Captured By the Highland Devil
If he felt this much desire from only a kiss, how much more would it feel to be inside her and have her writhing beneath him as he pumped his essence into her body?
Ruben felt his control slipping from him the more his lips coasted over hers. He had to stop.
. On that thought, Ruben pulled his lips away, taking the fleeting moment to appreciating her lashes resting on her cheek, her plump lips glistening. When she peeled her eyes open, she looked dazed.
She blinked, “W-what was that?”
“Desire,” he said. “Or lust, if ye want to be crude. There are a lot more bawdy terms for the intimate act, ones I ken would scald yer ears and leave ye questionin’ mankind.”
Paige pulled away and headed to the doorway. “I daenae need to question mankind,” she paused. “I have questions about the war ye wrecked on me people and nay one is givin’ me any answers.”
When he did not give her any reply, she sighed and headed to the door. “I suppose nay clarification will be forthcomin’ today either.”
The rhythmic thud of the squires’ wooden sword-blades colliding rang out across the arena.
Ignoring them, Ruben dashed the sweat on his forehead away then hefted his sword and gestured Galan forward. As expected, his friend attacked and parried with calm determination, warding off his strikes with his small round shield.
“How’s yer wife?” Galan asked, as their swords locked.
Grinding his boot into the ground, Ruben scowled, “We’re here trainin’. I daenae want to talk about me wife.”
“Ye may nae,” Galan said. “But I want to. I daenae ken much about her but from the way she looks at you, is she a vixen in bed?”
“Ye may be me second, but if ye dare utter those words again,” Ruben furiously spun on his heel to deliver a backhanded strike to Galan that sent his second stumbling, he added, “I’ll have yer tongue.”
The chaotic thud and clack of the trainee’s sword and shield were in the background as Ruben side-stepped, he skipped back and struck at him in a wide arc—their blades joining for a moment before Galan twisted away and dodged out of reach.
“Concentrate on the fight,” Ruben growled.
“Me apologies. I will never cast aspersions on yer dear wife again.” Galan said. “How about a simpler question?”
“Mind yer tongue,” Ruben warned as they circled each other,
Have ye thought of how many bairns ye want?” Galan asked. “Me Nara and I want three.”
“Ye’re aggravatin’,” Ruben scowled, doing his best to keep his man-at-arms alert. Galan met his strike with a snapping deflect and swiftly tried to undercut Ruben.
They circled each other once more, Galan leading the attacks, although Ruben’s parries and feints grew gradually more aggressive. Then he suddenly attacked, swift and silent as a striking wolf.
Galan leaped backward to avoid him, but he was too slow. Ruben managed to backhand Galan’s sword of his hand and sent it spinning across the enclosure.
Grunting, Galan said. “That wasnae nice.”
Cocking his blade over the back of his shoulder, Ruben said, “If ye would keep yer mind on the fight ye’d still have yer sword in hand.”
After retrieving his blade, Ruben asked, “Ye havenae touched her yet, have ye.”
Remembering the arousal from earlier, Ruben shifted. “That doesnae sound like a question.”
“Because it wasnae one.” Galan replied, extending his hands for a shake. “Do ye want to go to one of the village’s taverns tonight and speak over it? Being away from this castle could give ye a fresh perception on this matter.”
The almost instant answer that nearly flew off Ruben’s tongue was no— he did not drink spirits as a rule. No leader that was worth calling a leader allowed himself to drink to excess.
A light mead couldnae hurt.
Rubbing his face, Ruben replied, “Against all of me rules…I think I’ll go with ye this night.” He rubbed the back of his neck and winced at the tense muscles that went right down to his shoulders. “What time are ye going?”
Looking down at the needlepoint on her embroidery hoop, Paige dropped her hands and looked down at her work. As pretty as it was—it felt meaningless.
